Every Breath I Take
by Poison and Wine
Summary: Rewritten City's modernized and modified AU of the Time Traveler and Professor Moriarty: After sobbing through Moulin Rouge, Sebastian begs James to dance with him, and eventually James spills his heart out to him, but was Seb even there to listen?


**AN: Wine here, Poison doesn't seem to want to write an author's note (she says she's totes shy, when she's not conquering the world e_e), but here we have our first story! YAAAAAAY! *fanfare* So in our profile we introduced our characters Sebastian and James (well, sorta vaguely, but whatever), and this little oneshot is a bit far into their relationship, so you may not get what all is going on, but I'm sure its not going to be too difficult.**

**So basically, yeah, just read and review! Don't know if any of you are my readers on my single fanfiction account (however I refuse to reveal my identity, sneakeh sneakeh), but I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing my own, and I love writing with Poison anyway, so there. 8DDDD**

**As always, read and review guys!**

**Disclaimer: The characterizations of Professor James Moriarty and the Time Traveler from Sherlock Holmes and the Time Machine (respectively) belong to Poison and I. However, their original concepts belong to their respective authors, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and H.G. Wells. The oneshot title comes from the Frank Sinatra song of the same name.**

**Poison adds: e_e judging you...but not really.**

**Oh, and for future reference (and so you get the joke of Moulin Rouge), if you haven't seen Seb and Jimmy's apps, Sebastian's supposed to look like Ewan McGregor and Moriarty is supposed to look like Colin Firth. **

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><p>James really had to stop scaring off his aids. Whenever one would leave he would be stuck with grading the essays and the tests; being the type of professor he was, he never assigned some small assignment, they were always behemoths of papers and ridiculously long exams. He never had to deal with it before, he was always able to shove it off onto someone else. But not tonight. With almost 250 essays to grade before the week was out, James had to sit himself down on his couch with a cup of tea and an ashtray nearby and knuckle down.<p>

He was three essays in when his first pen decided to break. Twelve essays later, he was on the verge of a homicidal break.

Now, Sebastian wasn't that much of a singer, or a dancer, so he didn't really like to watch movies that dealt with either. He was a hardened sci-fi junkie (who even went to the damn conventions, for God's sake), but every once in a while he'd be flipping through the tv channels and the words bored flashed across his mind, and he'd settle for anything to watch.

He was quite disappointed with the lack of sci-fi choices on television at that point in time, and he'd already gone through Star Trek: the Next Generation (the complete series, of course) the last break he'd had from school, so there was really nothing else on. He would not watch commercial dribble, would not touch reality tv. So he went to the movie channels, finding most of the choices uninteresting. So he was at a loss.

He decided to pick the first movie he found that was just starting (he hated to start movies in the middle), which just so happened to be a musical called Moulin Rouge. He settled in in his chair, the one that he always sat in across from James (who wasn't paying attention as he was busy grading papers, poor bastard), sat cross legged in his pajamas and sipped from his hot vanilla flavored coffee as the movie began. He was prepared for whatever really.

But two hours later he was sobbing, his dog Data on his lap (he'd migrated there after attempts and failures to bother James) nuzzling into his arms to comfort his master in his hour of need. A bit dramatic, but Seb had to clutch him close from keep him from falling apart.

James tossed his most recently graded paper into the finished stack and looked over at Sebastian. He rolled his eyes. "Sebastian, it's just a movie." James chided, taking up the next essay and flipping back the title page. Sebastian was so emotional at times, it was embarrassing. James wasn't one to ever get all blubbery over a movie. That was just stupid.

As the credits rolled, Sebastian wiped his eyes and turned toward James and his snarky comment. He sniffed and pulled his legs up so that they were folded in front of him, his dog still sitting in his lap, but he moved him slightly so the animal was more comfortable. "I know it is, James..." he said quietly, burying his face in the dog's fur. He knew James wouldn't understand, so he didn't bother pushing it, he just sat there in contemplation as the main character of the movie (God he was so cute) finished singing the last line as the end credit music began to play. "That doesn't mean it isn't sayed..."

He blushed, embarrassed again that his southern accent reared its head. He fingered the hem of his shirt's neckline and pulled it to his mouth, turning his head away from his boyfriend.

James clicked his tongue disapprovingly and ran his pen through a whole paragraph. Sebastian was ridiculous at times. James finished that paper, scribbling an E at the top of the paper and tossing it onto the pile. "You knew from the start of the movie that she was going to die. I don't understand why you're crying about it," The next essay was picked up.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Don't you know that that makes it all the worse? Because you don't _know _how she's going to die? So you're just... waiting?" He felt a little better now with a bit of banter with his boyfriend, and shooed his dog off his lap. He decided another cup of coffee might be nice, since he hadn't had another since the start of the movie.

He flicked on the radio when he was in the kitchen and proceeded to prepare his drink.

"You're such a woman sometimes," James muttered, taking a sip of tea. He really wanted a cigarette but knew better than to smoke with 300 essays nearby. James settled on drinking the strongest tea he had, a fermented tea called Kombucha, with a splash of brandy in it to give it a little extra kick. James glanced up from the essay he was grading and watched Sebastian walk into the kitchen and start to make himself a cup of coffee (that vile substance). Smirking mostly to himself, James tried to focus on getting as many of the papers graded as he could.

Sebastian hummed along to the music playing. He kept it on a jazz station that James liked, and he had to admit it was more than pleasant, actually, since he hadn't particularly liked jazz before. He liked the smooth melodies and the powerful vocals. They calmed him, much more so than 80's music ever did, and he thanked James for introducing him to it. God knows he needed some relaxation in his life.

He swayed his hips to the music as he poured himself a brand new cup of coffee, freshly brewed after the last batch had gone stale. He the vanilla and sugar, inhaling the fragrance like it was a drug (well, coffee _was _his drug of choice after all).

Suddenly the song switched from an upbeat jazz swing to a slower song by Frank Sinatra. He smiled as he stirred his coffee and took the first sip, but then he sighed, looking back over his shoulder through the opening of the kitchen, to where James was sitting.

He ran his fingers along the counter and strolled with the music toward him, leaving the coffee behind to cool on the cold marble. He leaned against the wall of the living room, smiling with another sigh at James as he swayed back and forth. "Jayems?" he said, blushing again as he cursed his damn southern accent.

James had been, more or less, successfully ignoring Sebastian until he started with the swaying. "Are you having a fit or something?" He asked mildly, turning the page of the essay. He had a feeling he knew where this was headed. Sebastian's accent only was ever that strong when he was feeling overly emotional; angry, aroused, and sentimental were usually the feelings of choice for the Southern boy.

James couldn't stop his foot from moving to the music a little though. He was a Sinatra fan. Old Blue Eyes always made James a wee bit happier on the inside. Jazz held a special place in his heart and he was aware that Sebastian knew it. It was one of the reasons why it was always jazz on the radio.

Sebastian glided over to his boyfriend, warm smile still on his face. He gently removed the pen and paper from James' hands and set it aside, lacing his fingers through his and pulling him up and leading him to the center of the room. "Will you dayence with me?"

James was very temped to say no and to just sit back down but then he remembered the enormous stack of papers waiting for him. With a sigh and roll of his eyes, James nodded and pulled Sebastian close. He placed one of his hands on Sebastian's waist, the other keeping itself entwined with Sebastian's. "What's gotten into you, hmm?"

Sebastian shook his head slightly and leaned his head against the other man's chest, resting his other arm on the limb that encircled his own waist. "Nothin'... I jess..." He sighed and shrugged, swaying in time with the music and with James.

James didn't respond, he just wrapped his arm more completely around Sebastian, holding him tighter. "It's a welcome distraction from those bloody papers. Undergrads write like fifth graders sometimes,"

The shorter man hummed a small agreement, looking up for a moment at James then closing his eyes. "I know... You stress yourself too much, honey... Jess relax..." He rubbed his thumb on James' hand where it held his.

"What would really help me relax would be for us to spend the weekend in bed, no worries, no wankers, no bleeding papers to grade," James kissed Sebastian's crown. He would never admit it out loud but he rather liked just holding Sebastian. It calmed him down, almost like Sinatra did.

Sebastian's heart jumped when he felt the soft kiss on his light hair. It was a soft blondish brown this time of year, and he kept it sort of messy when out of school. The kiss upon it made him giggle and sigh on the inside, and he felt his eyelids flutter with a smile. "Wouldn't that be nice?" He sighed. "But sadly unrealistic."

One of the features James had been adamant about having in his...their apartment was a fireplace. Being an Englishman, James was rather fond of the roaring fire. Slowly, James drifted them over to the fireplace, turning off the lights as he passed them. "What do you say to at least taking a break from the essays?"

Sebastian looked up at James with a smile (so many smiles, so few frowns, just the way Sebastian liked it) and traced a circle... or was that a heart...? on his arm as he nodded. "I should ask you the sayum thing, shouldn't I? Since you were the one grayding papers..." The song was about to end, but he'd dance in James' arms till he couldn't dance anymore.

"I can always take a break...this one I would happen to like to spend with you, so I simply had to ask, didn't I?" James couldn't keep the slightly sharp edge out of his voice. It would creep in at all sorts of moments, whenever someone said something he thought was inane or silly. Like just now. James ran a hand down Sebastian's back and worked it under the hem so his palm pressed against the bare skin of his lower back. "I'm going to assume that was a yes,"

The southern man rolled his eyes at James' slight quip, smiling. "I was jess kiddin'!" he said quietly, shrugging and bringing their joined hands in between their chests. He shuddered when he felt the hand press against his back, and he dipped his head to kiss James' fingertips lightly, which were laced on top of his own. "It's always a yes..."

James pulled back from Sebastian, kissing him lightly. "Give me a moment to go get the things," He murmured, stroking Sebastian's cheek. James reluctantly pulled away from Sebastian and disappeared into the bedroom only to return a second later with a single foil wrapped condom and their tube of plain lube.

Sebastian felt a bit odd after having James so close for that period of time. That level of intimacy was... surprisingly rare for them, for being in a relationship. James wasn't the most intimate of people, and Sebastian blushed as he thought about the way James had been kissing him. So softly, so sweetly. What was wrong with him? Was it the music? Definitely the music, had to be. Sinatra always melted his boyfriend like goo, and he was glad he'd turned it on, sighing as he slid down and sat in front of the fire place, his legs curling up against him.

He felt a slight push at his feet, and found his lump of a dog Data curling up beside him. He rolled his eyes, knowing James would push him away when he got back, but he rested his hand on top of the sweet dog's head and petted him, smiling softly and humming to the music, still playing, just a different song.

When James walked back into the living room, back over to the fireplace, and frowned at the dog. "I am not touching you with that thing nearby." He sniffed, kneeling by the fireplace and waving his hand at Data, trying to shoo him. "Doesn't he have a cage or something you can put him in?"

Sebastian glared at James, gently patting his dog away and telling him quietly to go lay down in his bed (it was a little doggy pillow Seb kept in the kitchen). The dog did so obligingly, almost like how the real Data from Star Trek would who held the animal's namesake.

"He's just a baby, you know. Barely even a real dawg..." Sebastian sniffed. "And I'd never put him in a caaage! That's so... inhumane."

James watched Data trot off, wrapping an arm around Sebastian. "Baby or not, I am not going to make love to you with that thing watching. It isn't natural," With a final glare at Data for good measure, James turned to face Sebastian, kissing him on his cheek. "I do hope that's alright with you," James said slowly in a rather condescending tone.

Sebastian shrugged, leaning into James and sighing. "It's fine, I understand, darlin'." He nuzzled his head into his boyfriend's neck, grinning up at him and placing a hand on his leg. "I wouldn't want the dog staring at us either!" he giggled.

James gave a sigh and ran his hand down Sebastian's back, running it under his shirt yet again. He knew that the James Sebastian had come to know would lay them down and work his way into Sebastian's pants; logically, James knew he should do that, but he couldn't find the need or want to. What he really wanted was a nap, holding Sebastian, and nothing else. Even though it would be breaking character and letting Sebastian see a part of him he had tried to keep under lock and key, James was too tired to keep it hidden any longer.

He tossed the lube and condom into his arm chair and reached for the throw blanket (green) and a pillow (blue and yellow plaid) from the couch. He dragged them onto the floor in front of the fireplace and ignored Sebastian for a good five minutes as he set to building the perfect nest for them to lay in. After it was constructed to his preference, James flopped back and held out a hand for Sebastian. "Come here, love,"

Sebastian had been confused for those five minutes. He looked from the older man's face, to the blankets, then to the fireplace, then back at James. "Uh... Um... O-okay." He was a little skeptical, but crawled from his place on the floor over to the man, curling up in his arms and looking up at him, settling his head in the crook of his neck. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing's gotten into me," James mumbled, wrapping an arm around Sebastian's shoulders, pulling him close. James shifted a little, trying to find the ideal, most comfortable spot; he ended up turning onto his side slightly so his whole body was wrapped around Sebastian to some degree. James tangled their legs together and cradled the younger man against his chest. Finally deciding that _that_ was indeed good enough, James let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes.

The younger man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Jayems, you're scarin' me..." He gave out a nervous laugh but cuddled into the taller man anyway, surprised at how right it felt laying in his arms. This sort of thing was only something Sebastian made James do, not the otherway around, and he had to admit, it felt different when they both wanted to cuddle. There MUST have been something wrong with James, or he must have had a fever. James Moriarty Edwards was not a cuddler.

"Not that I'm complainin', its jess this is new, that's all."

"Sebastian, darling, I'm trying to take a nap," James said in a cross tone though there was no weight or venom behind his words. James frowned a little after Sebastian's words actually registered. Pulling back, James looked into Sebastian's eyes solemnly. "Am I really frightening you right now?" James didn't want to scare Sebastian, not when he wasn't acting out or asking for it.

Sebastian blinked, shaking his head a bit and resting his palm on James' cheek. "No, no, it ain't that, honey. It's jess..." he paused, trying to think of the right word as he pulled the man's face down to lean his forehead against his. "Nice. And... wonderful..." He blushed, running his fingers through James' hair.

James chuckled a little, capturing Sebastian's hand and pulling it to his mouth. Lightly he kissed the lad's knuckles. "You seem to be under the impression that I am not nice or wonderful. You are quite slow at times, Sebastian,"

The blonde's eyes darkened and his brow furrowed. "James, you're not that easy to read, you know." He sniffed, reverting back to his plain accent, but still leaning his forehead against James', smiling at the previous kiss. "And I'm not slow, you just surprise me all the time."

James rolled his eyes before shutting them again. "Just...let's just be quiet now, hmm? I'd like a bit of shut eye before subjecting myself to that hell again," James wished he had thought ahead and turned off the lights before laying down. After a stubbornly silent pause, "Where's the remote for the blasted lights?"

Sebastian blinked, smiling with a solution. He whistled, and turned his head slightly. "Data! Commere boy!"

The dog came padding up to the swiftly, always at the beck and call of Sebastian's voice. "Data, honey, fetch me the remote, please? I'll get you a treat later!"

The dog tilted his head to the side, then sneezed lightly, his ears flapping all over his face. The little beagle did as he was told and sniffed under the coffee table, then realizing it was on the surface, jumped up onto the couch and tried to reach out and knock it off the side. His little legs kicked behind him and ruffled a few of the papers James had been grading, but the remote knocked to the floor eventually, and Data hopped down and picked it up in his mouth. He bounded around the table to the cuddling couple.

"At least that thing's good for something," James said tritely, taking the remote and pressing all the right buttons for the lights in the living room, foyer, and kitchen to dim. James threw the remote aside and turned so he was laying on his back. James rested his head on a hand, the other still wrapped possessively around Sebastian, and turned his head to look at the fire that was lighting the room.

It was moments like this that James was okay with not being the most incredible criminal or the wealthiest man. But it was also these moments that scared him the most. James didn't like feeling human and vulnerable, even if he was feeling that way with Sebastian who he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt would never hurt James or betray him. He should feel safe around Sebastian...he hoped that Sebastian felt safe around him.

James would do anything for his...

What was Sebastian to him, precisely? James, the man who always had an answer for everything, couldn't quite put his finger on it. His darling, love, sweetheart? All too sentimental. Soul mates didn't exist...what did that leave them? James ran a hand over his face like he always did when he was thinking about something that was bothering him.

"I wish I could feel, Sebastian. I wish I could feel for you half of what you feel for me; maybe I'd be happy then. But I can't feel, I only want. I want more money, more fame, more of everything. I should be happy with you, love, but I'm not," This was the test; if Sebastian were to betray him it would be now when he had his throat exposed and all of his silly desires spread out before them.

What he had always thought of as a strength was suddenly his greatest weakness. Afraid of being hurt, James had shut himself off from everything and now he was paying his dues. The thing he had always been scared of being, weak, had consumed his entire existence. James' hand tightened around Sebastian, fingers digging into the boy's shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm so weak," He added in a barely audible whisper.

Sebastian's eyes were closed. His breathing was heavy and weighted, and he was nuzzled into James' arms. He would seem to have the appearance of sleep.

James looked over at Sebastian and frowned. Of course he would be asleep. The fool didn't shut up any other time and the one instance when James was looking for him to be there and be listening, he fell asleep. That little prick.

In truth, Sebastian couldn't sleep. Not now. But he didn't know what to say, didn't know how to comfort a man who had never needed comfort before. The one time James opened up was the one time Seb couldn't speak.

What could he say? That it was fine, that James was perfect? That he was alright being cold and heartless, because that's what James Moriarty does best?

He'd always been told throughout his life that he was so weak, so pathetic and wasteful. Like a girl, they said. He even sat like one, cried like one, made love like one.

And now he was small like one. Minuscule. A tiny droplet upon a leaf. He felt so small in James' arms. He wasn't the backbone James made him out to be.

James... What was James to him? Sebastian, the grounded one, wasn't sure. His air, his heart, his everything?

Love. What a popular term in Sebastian's vocabulary. He said it often, and James only barely muttered it back, if at all. The love he would give in words was not as powerful as the love he hadn't given in acceptance. Sebastian's world revolved around James, and yet the blinding truth was that James was not James, but Moriarty. Moriarty was a criminal.

This wouldn't last, he had thought. James would get better, if he'd just stayed with him. But it was only getting worse, and Sebastian began to feel like he was losing him. He knew how James worked. If he had thought all this was temporary, that Sebastian's presence would become normal, then he would have left a long time ago, for fear of that feeling that the man so desperately wanted to cling to, but didn't know how.

It was a scary thought, knowing someone didn't know how to feel. It made him curl closer into James as the fire flickered in front of him and he pretended to sleep.

Like a dream, this was, so it didn't matter if he was awake or not.

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><p>Later that evening, an entire class's essays graded and tucked into a briefcase, James was done trying to figure out whether or not Sebastian had actually heard any of what he said. James didn't like not knowing, he always needed to know the answers, the outcomes, the realities. He couldn't know any of this if he didn't reopen the wound, so to speak.<p>

Entrails in hand, metaphorically, James cornered Sebastian in the kitchen and asked brusquely how much he had heard earlier.

Sebastian, who had been cleaning up a few dishes, wasn't in the least bit shocked when James slunk into the room and demanded an explanation. He didn't know what to say, honestly, as cliche as that is. What could you say to a person who was as emotionally unstable as Francium?

He sighed, turning his head away from the dishes and looking up at James with a sad sort of expression. He took a long moment, and just stood there, hands still in the sink as the water poured over them and pruned his fingers, but he really couldn't move.

"What do you want me to say to you, James? What do you want me to say that you haven't already heard from me a thousand times, what you already know I'm going to say?"

"How much..." James stepped closer, his tone icy and unrelenting. "...did you hear? Answer the question Sebastian,"

Sebastian shook his head, turning back to the dishes as he spoke. "What does it matter, James? What does it matter if I heard all of it or none of it? I know how you feel. I know what you want from me, but... I..."

He paused, not caring if the water was turning cold. "I don't think you being weak is something to be sorry for, James. Weakness can make people stronger."

James made himself listen to Sebastian and drink in what he said before reacting. Oddly, it seemed to calm him down. Maybe he wasn't quite as fucked as he had originally thought. After a pause, James stepped right up behind Sebastian, settling his hands on the boy's hips and leaning into him a little.

"I can't be...like that anymore Sebastian," James closed his eyes and rested his head on top of Sebastian's. It wasn't a gesture of affection though, it was a signal of defeat. "I'm too tired...too old." Maybe it would best if he just left now, before he got too involved...past the point of no return. It would be best for him, certainly, maybe even best for Sebastian. "I should go," He finally said after turning into himself for a long moment of introspection.

The plate Sebastian was holding nearly clattered into the sink, but he caught it just in time, hiding his tremor with just a slip of the hand. His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, but he continued washing the plate. He shook his head, breaking slightly away from James as he put the dish in the dishwasher. "Coward," he mumbled, sniffing a bit to show his displeasure, but he would never let on to how deeply the words had hurt him inside.

The hands on Sebastian's hips turned from a loose hold to a vice like grip. "I'm not a fucking coward," James shoved Sebastian forward, into the sink. "Do you have any idea what I've done for you? I'm just done with it. I'm done changing everything for you. You aren't even worth it."

The edge of the sink crushed his stomach, and he flinched. His eyes widened and and his voice caught in his throat for a moment. "Please, James, I know how you work. If I wasn't worth it I just would have been a quick fuck on the fly, like all your quick fucks on the fly."

"You're the only one I know will keep coming back for more. You like it; you like the pain and the lies. You especially like the danger of fucking a man you know kills people," James purred smoothly in Sebastian's ear, seductive yet with an edge of steel beneath each word. "I know that I can do anything to you and you'd still be there, ass in the air, begging for more," Lightly, James traced the bite mark on Sebastian's neck with a finger.

Sebastian _growled_. He screamed in the back of his throat and pushed James back with all his weight, slamming a hand on his chest and pushing him to the other side of the kitchen, backing him up into the counter. "You are so _STUPID_! When the hell will you get it through your thick _sex crazed_ skull that I fuckin' love you! I don't CARE about the damn sex! I've never cared! Why the hell do you think I'd only had it EIGHT times before I met you? I've just wanted to BE with you, you dumbass! Because YOU wanted it! So don't pull the fucking sex card on me James Moriarty!"

Sebastian panted for breath, his face red from anger and embarrassment that he'd blown up in such a way, but he wasn't going to take it back now.

After a long moment of just staring at him and collecting himself, Sebastian let go. It was only now that he realized that tears were streaming down his face.

"I... I don't know why. I just do. I love you. I don't CARE if you love me or not."

Sebastian stepped back and held his stomach, shuddering as he backed up against the other counter.

"I don't keep coming back to you for the sex, James. I come back to you for moments like earlier, when you danced with me. When I saw James Edwards, and not Mori-fucking-arty. But I don't care whether you're him or you, or you or him. It doesn't matter to me, not anymore."

James wasn't expecting Sebastian to fight back like that which made it easier for the boy to push him back. James didn't stumble, he simply retreated a few steps to let Sebastian blow up without being too close to him. It wasn't healthy what Sebastian did to himself. He always kept things bottled inside until James forced them out into the open. Then, when it did happen, it ended up with shouting and tears. James never liked tears, always thought they were pointless, and he especially didn't like it when Sebastian cried. That pretty face would get all puffy and splotchy and it was such a waste.

Unfortunately for James, Sebastian had the emotional mood swings of a menstruating cheerleader.

James didn't make any remarks during Sebastian's rant (it wouldn't have done any good. Being ignored was not something he liked so he chose to wait until he would actually be listened to before speaking).

After Sebastian finished, James regarded him solemnly. This boy, this poor fool with an over blown hero complex, wanted him, the proverbial and more often than not, literal villain of the story. It didn't make any sense. It wasn't logical. It certainly wasn't logical that he wanted someone who caused him so much pain time and time again.

James slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned against the counter, crossing his legs. His usual jaunty stance. "I need to know that you aren't using me. That you aren't relying on me to the backbone you, more often than not, lack in certain matters. That's what _I need_ Sebastian,"

Sebastian sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head against his hands. "I know what you need James, but you aren't willing to let me give you what you need! You think I'm taking and using, but you're the one who needs this, James, you're the one who needs to grow up!"

It would take two strides for James to cross the kitchen and take Sebastian back into his arms. It would be easy to kiss away the fight and ignore the issue at hand for another week or month until the next confrontation but that wasn't getting them anywhere and if James Moriarty was anything, he was a man who loved progress. "You don't get that I'm trying, do you? You honestly have no clue what I'm putting myself through to make you happy. Are you so shallow as to believe that what I let you see is the whole story? I don't need to grow up, I'm just an old dog trying to learn a new trick. Three guesses what that trick is,"

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "Then don't tell me you should go, James, don't tell me you should leave when you _so _want to stay." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I'm tired of fighting about this, James, I'm tired of fighting about our feelings and everything that's wrong with this, too. But I'm not going to stop just because I'm sick of it. I'll always fight for you. If I didn't, then _I'd _be a coward."

"I want to leave, I should leave, because you deserve someone who can feel. Even a heartless bastard like me can see that," There he was again, that small hidden part of James that cowered powerlessly when faced with something like this. A feeling of inadequacy and regret. "I would be giving you a chance to find something that's good enough for you,"

Sebastian shuddered, shaking his head and taking a step forward. "No, honey, no...!" He closed the space and took James' face in his hands and kissed both of his cheeks. "It's not about being good or not good enough. Do you... Do you not get that?" He stroked his cheek, tilting his head to the side and furrowing his brow. "Love isn't very rational. It's the least rational part of my life."

He paused, then took James in his arms. "You're more than good enough for me, James. You're more than I ever could have hoped for, even if you're an awful person. You're not an awful boyfriend, and you're not awful to love."

Everything that James had always known but never been aware of suddenly came into focus and bore down on him. He was 50 years old, Sebastian was nearly 20 years younger than him, he had lived a life of crime, he had hurt the only man that had ever loved him and yet that man was holding him. James wrapped his arms around Sebastian and kissed his temple. "I want to love you, it would be so easy and the right thing to do. But I don't. I don't love you. I'm not content with what we have, I never will be. I'm a selfish, selfish man, Sebastian. I'll destroy you if one of us doesn't leave now,"

"Shuddup," Sebastian said against the man's chest. "I told you I don't care if you love me, and I don't care if you ever do. Or if you ever did. I love you, but that doesn't mean everything's supposed to be happy and wonderful. Love is about accepting each other for who they are, and I do. I love you even though you're a complete and total bastard. So jess shuddup and stop with yer mopin'." He frowned against his chest and buried his head, his voice growing softer as he spoke.

James had to bite his tongue from responding that he just didn't want to hurt Sebastian. He was protecting. Like he had protected him from Goddard and Buchnell, those judgemental pricks. Only now, he was protecting Sebastian from the man he claimed to love unconditionally. With a sigh, James shrugged his shoulders and pushed Sebastian back a bit. "Let's go to bed. Anything else that needs saying can be said over eggs and toast. You make me feel old, Sebastian. My tired, creaky body can't take much more of this," The last sentence was meant as a joke and was accompanied by a small smirk.

The younger man's eyes did feel a bit droopy, and he slunk away from James and sighed. He rubbed his face and closed the open dishwasher, and moved to exit the room, turning off the light and sighing. He didn't even have to say anything anymore, he didn't have to think after one of their fights. One of their many fights.

There was a reason he loved James, but he'd never tell. Wouldn't even admit it to himself.

He smirked as he reached for James' hand as he pulled them toward their shared bedroom, green sheets calling.

Sebastian would expect the sex, expect the arguments, expect the shaky apology that wasn't really one but was a nice substitute. He would expect the kissing and the holding and the sighing and the heartbreaking.

He would never expect the love. The love would come last, in the very end of days.

They would dance and dance around each other, until one of them gave up and dropped themselves off at the edge of the universe.

Then together they would tumble into oblivion.


End file.
